


Overslept

by AnonymouslyDead



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake The Snake, Aziraphale's bookstore, Baking, Bored Aziraphale, Crowley Overslept, M/M, lockdown - Freeform, naps, takeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymouslyDead/pseuds/AnonymouslyDead
Summary: Crowley overslept, and he feels bad about it when Aziraphale is sad about it. Crowley organizes a little something for Aziraphale to make up for it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Overslept

The last time Crowley had a nap, he had meant to only sleep away a few years....He had then proceeded to sleep through his alarm and wake up in a whole new decade.

When Crowley finally sat up in bed to answer the alarm on his phone, he was relieved to see he hadn’t slept til 2030. Lockdown would’ve surely been over by then (hopefully), but he didn’t want to sleep away the 2020s. It was shaping up to be an interesting year to say the least. 

He had slept later than he meant to though. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and focused on the date. July 15, 2020. 

A collection of notifications dotted his screen. Memes from Warlock, a few of Anathema’s pressing supernatural questions, over a dozen of texts from Angel…

Crowley clicked on Angel’s notifications.

“Good morning, Crowley!” Aziraphale had texted him on July 1st. “Would you like to pop over to the shop today?”

“ The humans changed the rules a bit, dear. You just need a mask.” He added in another text.

“...I may have miracled one your way.”

“I may have made too many for the humans.”

Crowley looked at his bedside. A tartan mask indeed sat on his bedside table. Crowley bit out a laugh. He doesn’t know what he expected. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale continued two days afterwards. Crowley frowned. 

“Are you okay?” He added a week later. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He texted just yesterday. 

“I just miss you.”

Fuck. He’d been awake five minutes, and he already felt bad. Crowley pulled up Aziraphale’s number, his finger hovering over the dial button. 

...Nah, he could do better than that.

*****************************************************************************************

One positive of lockdown had been that Aziraphale didn’t have to chase humans out of his bookshop anymore. 

Aziraphale kind of missed it though. At least then, he got to talk to someone regularly when they did. If they continued to invade his shop, maybe Aziraphale could interest them in some of his baking over his books. 

Aziraphale needed the pile of dough with his bare hands, squishing the mass between his hands and the flour speckled counter. He tried his best to get lost in the feeling of making bread the human way. It had worked the first time and managed to distract him from the situation. 

....That was five loaves ago. 

Maybe he should consider opening a bakery at this rate. 

Aziraphale considered the dough, deemed it ready, and placed it back in the mixing bowl. He covered it with a hand towel and set it aside to set. He then cleaned up the mess he had made, miracling away the stray specks of flour and dough along the counter. 

Well, that was done for now. 

Aziraphale pulled out his phone and searched his contacts. He could call up Warlock again and give him some more Brother Francis advice. Or, there was Anathema who he could spend an hour answering questions to. His finger scrolled past Crowley’s name, and Aziraphale frowned, feeling a tad worse. He wondered if Crowley would respond if he called. The front door’s bell jingled. “Mr. Fell?” Someone called. 

Aziraphale shrugged off his (tartan) apron and rushed to the door. He had a new excuse lined up on his tongue, ready to shoo humans away from his book collection. 

He came to a stop when he reached the door, finding three people...specifically delivery workers with their hands full. The three looked at each other curiously, two men and one woman. Each had a different uniform from a different establishment along with matching face masks. One of the men looked at Aziraphale and held up a bag with the logo of Aziraphale’s favorite Italian restaurant down the street.

“Mr. Fell. Your order.” He offered. Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t ordered anything though.” 

“No, I did.” Crowley said muffled through his tartan face mask as he pushed through the door. “Thanks for the coordination, guys.” 

Crowley pulled out a large wad of cash and exchanged it for the boxes the workers held. With that, the workers left Crowley with his arms full. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale said surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming. I would have cleaned up a bit.” 

“Sorry, angel. I just got your message. May have overslept a bit.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, you lazy serpent.” He said fondly. 

“What can I say? This whole lockdown has me tired. But, hey.” Crowley gestured the bags of food he now had. “Takeout is still open.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Here. Let me set the table.”

He took the bags from Crowley and walked off towards the back of the store with Crowley close behind. Crowley watched Aziraphale unpack the food slowly, hsi face lightening up with each new discovery much to Crowley’s pleasure. 

“You know I have a nice loaf of bread that would go lovely with this.” Aziraphale said as he plated pasta. He picked up a container of soup before setting down again, his face growing more excited. “And this lovely chocolate cake I made from a recipe online. You simply must try it...if you would like to eat that is.”

Crowley shrugged. Thankfully, it didn’t dull Aziraphale’s enthuisasm. He disappeared further into his house. 

“What sort of wine would you like?” Aziraphale asked. Before Crowley could answer, Aziraphale appeared with a bottle and two plates balanced on his arms. “I forgot I had a bottle left from 1893. How’s that?” 

“Sounds lovely, angel.” Crowley smiled, crinkling the fabric of his mask. He realized he still had it on and took it off, tucking it into the breast pocket of his button up shirt.

Aziraphale smirked. He miracled glasses and poured them both wine before setting up his own plate. Crowley watched him work and then eat, starting with the soup. Aziraphale’s face shone with his pleasure, and Crowley smiled.

“God, I missed you.” Crowley sighed. Aziraphale looked up abruptly, his look first curious before a pleased smile stretched across his face. Crowley’s stomach flipped at the sight. He felt his face hit up the longer Aziraphale looked at him. 

So, he looked down and hid his face with a sip of wine. 

A chuckle. “I missed you too, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment what you think and hit kudos if you like it!


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